


Against the surge of waves that held us, with that ancient grip beneath

by impossiblesongs



Series: Post-Library River and Confrontational Twelve [3]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblesongs/pseuds/impossiblesongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“There, in a bed far too small for the Blu he’s come to know, is a small child, curled into fetal position, letting out whimpers here and there. River sits beside him on the tiny bed, brushing the hair from his boyish face tenderly. Looking at the boy now, the Doctor estimates him to be less than five years old. The obvious occurs: he’s never seen Blu this young before.”</i> – Blu is sick. His So-Called-Future comes along to help. (part of the ‘Post-Library River & Confrontational Twelve’ series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.  
>  **AN:** Title from the song ‘Saferwaters’ by the band Chevelle.

“I’ll just be but a minute,” the Doctor shouts, passing out through the Tardis doors in a hurry. “You just hang back and do whatever it is you do when I’m not looking.” Thinking better on that he twirls back around, the ends of his coat swirling along with him. He points a knowing finger inside his Tardis, right at Clara, who is still pouting at his insistence that she stay put this time while he goes to sort something out. “Forget I said that,” he orders, “and _behave_ , would you?”

 

The Doctor snaps his fingers and the doors to the Tardis shut before Clara can retort. He smirks, retrieving his screwdriver from his pocket and sonicing the doors, making certain there is no possible chance they will open for anyone, least of all her. He needn’t have her just wandering out and catching a glimpse of where exactly he’d landed them. This was a strictly personal matter. If it were up to him, he’d have left her back on Earth, only the message on his psychic paper said it was an emergency. Emergency, underlined three times. River meant business.

 

Besides, they would most certainly not be colliding this way, Clara and his family. Not if he had any say in it.

 

Once satisfied the Tardis doors would stay shut, meaning several pulls and tugs had been required, The Doctor placed his screwdriver back in his top pocket and surveyed his surroundings. He’d parked just outside the house River owned, the one he’d call home sometime in his seemingly overly chaotic future.

 

Oh, but what bliss such chaos had proven to be and _he_ couldn’t seem to help himself. It is another thing Clara would tease him for unmercifully. He would be having none of that, thank you very much.

 

It had yet to happen, though. The whole ‘officially’ moving into this place where his family resides and (if he were being honest) he wonders exactly how much longer it was going to take.

 

Whistling, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, he makes his way around the decorative hedges at the front of the house and runs up the walkway. It annoys him deeply to know that if he were a bit younger he’d probably be able to just hop right on over the damned things. He makes it a point to jump over the two steps on the front deck, mostly out of spite, and reaches the front door in no time.

 

He knocks insistently, impatiently.

 

It’s not so much that he hasn’t seen his family, rather that Blu just drops in whenever the hell he feels like it, bringing along his brother or sister, sometimes strays or worse (see: Jack Harkness). Blu actually drags him home often enough, and, well, he’d stay put for a few days – in the beginning, that is.

 

He’d marked it down, because that seemed important for some reason or other, how on his first stay he lasted two days and two nights. He’d be off, then, with a promise to come back soon. River and the kids would smile, tell him to be safe. There were no hurt feelings or overly complicated goodbyes. Underwhelming would be the word to describe such moments. Then Blu would pull him back in, and there he’d be. Back at this house, with his wife and children and those ridiculous hedges.

 

There was no helping, or denying, his desire to stay longer. To help a first-year-at-school Art with his projects and to be there when the markings turned up. Or, when he landed further off in their time, to sneak his teenage Jessie a cheat sheet while she was doing an essay on some rubbish revolution or other, and then share a laugh over it while they ate dinner.

 

A few days turned into a week, then two, which led to three. But since this house his family owned wasn’t _his_ , not properly (not _yet_!), he’d relent to his self-inserted placing in their lives eventually. He’d take leave, growing more and more reluctant to do so after every visit, but he’d not wanted to wear out his welcome.

 

Needless to say, this fixture of inconsistence that they were all allowing him to be had been slowly driving him mad. The more he visited, the more he glimpsed of their lives, the more he wanted to close the gap that remained between them.

 

Two lives, he had. Options. If only there would come the acknowledgement of how this face is running to them more than he runs away from them. River has said nothing of it. She’s not alluded to any permanence in his visiting and well, now they’ve reversed places. He’s the one stuck on the outside looking in, waiting.

 

The front doors swing open on him, creaking at the hinges. There, with her hand leaning against the archway, stood his wife. River appeared disheveled and cross. Her green eyes, wild with fury, assessed him closely and her mouth pursed more the longer that she did.

 

He must admit, the sight of her like this is striking. The flush of anger that has broken across her skin really does only make her look all the more beautiful.

 

“Finally decided to turn up, did you?” she ultimately says, accusingly.

 

River turns, leaving him to either follow after her or not. He does, making sure to shut the door behind him.

 

“So, what’s the issue?” he wonders to her aloud. River, however, is busy making it impossible for him to catch up to her. She rushes right up the stairs, not once chancing another glance at him or even remotely answering his question.

 

The Doctor grumbles to himself about rudeness and makes his way up the stairs in his own bloody time. These knees of his weren’t made like they used to be. Then again, considering the last set of knees….

 

Reaching the last set of steps, he recognizes the door left ajar to be Blu’s old room. The Doctor walks on over, deciding he’s too old for this climbing stairs nonsense, and nudges the door all the way open with one bony finger.

 

There, in a bed far too small for the Blu he’s come to know, is a small child, curled into fetal position, letting out whimpers here and there. River sits beside him on the tiny bed, brushing the hair from his boyish face tenderly. Looking at the boy now, the Doctor estimates him to be less than five years old. The obvious occurs: he’s never seen Blu this young before.

 

“Is he sick?” the Doctor asks, quickly moving to occupy the space at his wife’s side.

 

River shrugs, “He was fine all morning, then came the fever. It won’t go down. I don’t know what to do, where to take him. They,” his wife swallows, choosing her words carefully, he notes, “they’ll see his hearts.”

 

The Doctor kneels down to closer examine his son, placing a hand on the child’s forehead. Blu is warmer than he should be, that much was for sure. He spied River looking at him, her eyes pleading for answer as to where to go from here.

 

The Doctor nodded, standing upright and pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “It could be an infection or might even be something worse. Be it that he has two hearts or not, neither of us are real doctors.” He points out.

 

“No bloody kidding.” Replies River. There’s not even an amused huff at his attempt for humor. “But the hospital will...” his wife shakes her head.

 

She’s nervous, fear glowing alight in her eyes as she looks down at their son, pointedly avoiding looking at him.

 

“The Tardis’s sickbay.” She suggests suddenly, holding to some underling hope that he cannot decipher.

 

“A hospital would be the likely choice, really.” He tells her.

 

“The sickbay,” she says again, “for now.”

 

The Doctor thinks of how Clara is still in his Tardis, doing god knows what. If he showed up with his supposedly dead wife and their child there wasn’t a chance in all of the universe he would get by without Clara demanding answers of him.

 

“Sweetie,” River calls to him desperately, her hand resting at his arm. He nods curtly and a breath of relief escapes her.

 

River gives him a thankful smile before she leans over towards their son, kissing Blu’s overly warm forehead and whispering something in the boy’s ear. Blu shifts his body to face his mother and his arms go around her neck. River cradles him in her arms before lifting him up with her.

 

“I’ll pack some overnight clothes, as this could take a while, and you,” she hands Blu over to him with care and the Doctor readily accepts the weight of him, “you get Blu to the Tardis.”

 

While River takes leave to do as she’d said, the Doctor can’t help but take notice of the room. It’s so full, so lived in. He looks down at his son and his hearts clench at how Blu feels so weightless in arms. Such a wee thing he is, this young. And burning up.

 

His legs start moving before he can argue with himself about it. He’ll deal with Clara’s questions, there seems to be no other choice in the matter.

 

The stairs prove difficult, but he manages, shifting Blu upright so he can hold the boy to his chest with one arm if he needs to. It’s a massive help when the front door needs opening. Once open, both hands return their hold on his son, splayed across the child’s back protectively. Blu’s tiny hands grip at his coat and the boy whimpers. It’s a pained little thing, that sound; the Doctor’s lips go into a tight, thin line with the unpleasantness of it. His child, still so little and not old enough know of any kind of pain. It’s by sheer power of will that the Doctor does not lose his focus and crumble from it.

 

Every step forward, there’s now a massive leap in both his hearts. They pound inside his chest and he feels like they are working their way up his throat. The outcome is positively suffocating. It’s such a troubling nuisance, too. One he thought he’d never have to deal with again. How the seeds of worry sow their roots and grow, grow, grow.

 

Turning around the hedges, the Doctor spies a face he’s not so familiar with leaning against his Tardis and he comes to a halt.

 

A woman, if body shape is still telling. Not human, though, going by the bright shade of salmon-pink her skin is. She’s got her long lightly lilac-nearly white hair up in a tight ponytail. It cascades in curls down her shoulders. The Doctor notices a certain vortex manipulator strapped around her wrist and sighs, relief probably.

 

“Ready when you are.” She says. Her voice is gently whimsical and naturally light, a genuine soft-spoken lass. There is a slight twisting of her words and that tell him English is probably not her first language.

 

Blu wriggles in the Doctor’s hold, lulled to consciousness by the sound of her voice also, it seems. The Doctor keeps Blu’s face shielded from the woman and he quiets down in no time, too taken by the fever to struggle.

 

“And what is your name?” the Doctor asks.

 

She smiles sweetly at him before taking off the vortex manipulator. “You must get this on your companion and press the button. She’ll be sent to her time, on Earth.” She holds the gadget out to him. “I’ll hold Blu while you do so.”

 

The Doctor cradles his son closer to himself, surprised to find himself far more reluctant to share now that he’s got the boy securely in his arms. “Why should I trust you?”

 

The Doctor already has his suspicions, of course. Pink or not, the smile on this female’s face is identical to the one his very own granddaughter, Susan, shares.

 

She walks closer to him, dainty in her steps and posture near perfection. There’s an air about her, this creature. He can’t put his finger on why it calls attention, or why _he_ finds it so attention-worthy.

 

She’s neared close enough that the Doctor can see her eyes flash a deep molten gold at the iris. They remind him of a fine whiskey. Her skin is not only one of the more pleasing shades of pink, but there are patterns he’d not noticed from far away. On her wrists there are markings, patterns one misses at first glance, that swirl outward all across her flesh. They catch a reflective golden hue whenever the sun hits them just right.

 

If she were a diamond, he reckons she’d glisten just as prettily.

 

“Do you really have the time to be badgering me until I admit something cataclysmic for us both?” she poses.

 

The Doctor shifts Blu in his arms, handing him over to this very-much-alien female character as gently as he can, accepting the vortex manipulator into his possession as they switch.

 

He watches how she handles his son with great care, shushing his squirming in her unfamiliar arms with soft murmurs in his ear. Blu is safe enough with this stranger, or so it would seem.

 

The Doctor walks short distance away to his ship. A snap of his fingers and the doors respond in kind, swinging open on command. He doesn’t bother shutting them all the way.

 

“Clara!” he calls aloud and spots her in the top portion of the ship, lounging in a chair. She bolts upright at his sudden entrance.

 

“You were gone long enough!” she reprimands, rushing over to be at his side “What’s that?” she points to the item in his hands, stilling.

 

Those wide, owlish eyes are all more unnerving every time she puts them on but he closes the distance between them anyway.

 

“You know very well what this is.” he says, taking hold of her hand and wrapping it around her wrist. Once it’s tight and set he asks, “Clara Oswald, do you trust me?”

 

Clara squints, a frown tugging down her bright red lips. “You’re sending me away again.”

 

“Now is not the time for you to be a sentimentalist, Clara!” he rasps, almost a scolding. “I need you to trust me. Yes?”

 

Though she’s gone all teary-eyed and can’t seem to find her voice, Clara gives him a firm nod.

 

“Good. You keep this on your wrist, _don’t_ lose it.”

 

“Just promise me you’ll come back for me if you need me,” is all Clara asks of him. “Whatever it is, promise me you won’t go through it alone.”

 

The Doctor gives her a nod of his own, promising, “I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”

 

They stare at each other and he can sense a hug coming along if he doesn’t go and get on with it. All that makes up Clara’s presence is taken away from him with a crackle of static. The Tardis seems dimmer without her.

 

Switching his mind to focus on the situation at hand, the Doctor inputs various commands at the console before making sure the sickbay is where he’d seen in last. It is not, but the Old Girl switches around often. It shouldn’t be too hard to find and he reckons it’ll turn up once Blu is safely inside. His Tardis is nothing but reliable when showing favoritism towards River. This, he’s sure, will be no different.

 

The Doctor heads back towards the front doors, letting the Old Girl figure herself out in the meantime. He stills at the voices, hushed and all too chummy, that spill in from the outside.

 

“And how are things?” that’s his wife’s voice, and there is relief in her tone. Also, genuine concern.

 

“Things are… things.” The stranger he’d met mere seconds ago answers. “They will get better.” There is resolution there, a mind firmly made, intent to follow through. In what, he has an inkling of an idea. “They must.” A pause, “For her.”

 

“I have all the faith in you, dear.” River replies with conviction.

 

The Doctor decides now a good time as any to make his reappearance and clears his throat while doing so.

 

“Ready or not,” he says, eyeing this stranger and his wife interestingly. Once the pink-skinned stranger has handed Blu over into River’s care, River tosses a grateful smile her way, their eyes locking momentarily. Spoilers, the Doctor decides, is what this exchange of glances entails. It’s annoying. So he interrupts, “I don’t have all the time in the world, you know.”

 

River turns her eyes on him, brow raised in reproach to his outburst, and replies, “Time is exactly what you do have. Please do pardon him,” she directs to their outside company, conversational as ever. “He’s a bit thick and the older he gets makes him grumpy. But at least he’s finally acting his age, bless.”

 

“ _River_ ,” he cuts in, motioning to Blu with a hand. His wife looks slightly apologetic about idling to gossip, what with Blu’s condition. She thanks their unknown (to the Doctor, anyway) visitor before moving to pass him and disappearing inside his ship.

 

The Doctor leans outward, eying the pink-skinned alien who’s come to their rescue quite literally. He sorts through the reasons and possibilities jumbling all around in his head, unsure of several things and yet dead certain in others. She’s plenty busy to be carrying out whims like this, the patterns shown on her wrist were a giveaway. It may have taken him a while, with other things begging his full attention, but he worked out what they were, what _she_ ultimately was. Royalty. And her species are not the kind to allow outside consorts into the family, let alone ones who _look_ human.  

 

Oh, when he gets his hands on the right Blu, the boy will have so much explaining to do.

 

“So what Reign do you belong to exactly?” the Doctor’s question takes her by surprise and her eyes widen a fraction. Yes, a satisfying whiskey coloring indeed.

 

“You are as perceptive as he said you’d be.” Is her answer.

 

He smirks, “Tell Susan her gramps says hello.”

 

“I will.”

 

He disappears inside his Tardis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“He snuck away from the sickbay, needing a word with his son (a future version) in regards to so many things. The best way to do that, arguably, was to depend on the telepathic circuits.”_ – The Doctor wants answers, he gets them. (part of the ‘Post-Library River & Confrontational Twelve’ series)

Blu had been in the Tardis sickbay for the rest of the night and most of the day that followed. Thankfully, the boy was out cold through the worst of his fever. The Doctor and River hovered anxiously at their son’s bedside, waiting and watching, unsure at every turn. Slowly but steadily, Blu started responding to whatever treatment the Tardis had chosen for him, meaning a trip to an actual hospital was less needed than it had been initially. River seemed to be more than just relieved for it.

 

The Old Girl worked cleverly and without need of orders or suggestions, much to the annoyance of the Doctor. His ship had also not revealed much but the boy’s ongoing status from time to time. The Doctor took many a glance over at River suspiciously, trying to work out what exactly the Tardis was hiding from him on her account, yet River gave him nothing and neither did his Tardis.

 

His wife’s pacing soon became a tiring sight and he’d snapped at her to go find to their room, the one she’d shared with bowtie.

 

“It should be around here somewhere,” he’d assured her, impatience leaking through in his tone from the countless unknowns he seemingly always had to deal with.

 

“I’m fine, thank you.” River had replied crisply, ignoring him entirely from that point on.

 

River’s chilly treatment for the next hour only confirmed his assumptions that he’d said the wrong thing, or said it in the wrong way. Annoyed and worried, the Doctor found no point in apologizing. They carried on, hovering over their son in silence.

 

Eventually, she did cave to her exhaustions, falling asleep at Blu’s bedside. The Doctor took this as his opportune moment to sneak back to the console, but not before checking Blu over and making sure he was stable for the time being.

 

The sight of River did still him, though. Her face was worry free and the golden ringlets he loved cascaded every which way. He moved several away from her face, staring openly. The ‘ _sorry’_ he’d been reluctant in yielding to caught in his throat and he swallowed it down, the force of it nearly bringing tears to his eyes. It makes saying goodbye to Clara that one time, after she and Danny Pink were supposed to get their happily ever after but didn’t, seem like a walk in the park. Not that he ever walks in the park. Too boring.

 

He decides there are too many _sorry’s_ to atone for, here and now, and he hasn’t got the time for it. River is wrong. Time has never been all he’s had. In fact, time is what runs out. He has much to take care of before that happens again.

 

He snuck away from the sickbay, needing a word with his son (a future version) in regards to so many things. The best way to do that, arguably, was to depend on the telepathic circuits.

 

Once at the console, the Doctor switched on the blue stabilizers and cloaked the Tardis to invisibility mode. He had an inkling to where she would land and the place was not likely to be welcoming him with open arms. The Doctor switched the monitor to face him before positioning himself.

 

“Alright, Old Girl.” He stuck his hands in gently and his eyes slipped closed. “Take me to him,” he requested, before clarifying, “a _right_ him.”

 

The Doctor made sure his mind was on point. Unlike Clara, the Doctor would not let his mind deviate from his purpose. He envisioned the man he knew, not the child he’d just met. Blu, who was all grown up and far too much like him than was healthy, for this universe or the next.

 

The Tardis did not make much noise in her travels, nor did she give any sign of takeoff, but he knew his ship. His eyes opened upon landing.  

 

The monitor reported the year 421K, on the planet Sliva Hapra. The K represented the eleventh revolution being in full order now, and according to the Tardis data, the planet was under the Reign of Kifa. Detailed accounts maintained the planet to be of alien race, hardly anything close to human resided here. The placing was too far away from Earth and not likely to catch a human’s attention. They were very strict on Sliva Hapra, very resolved to keep their species pure and untainted. 

 

The Doctor found it safe to assume Blu’s coming across this planet had something to do with a certain Captain Jack, and frowned.  Reading more, he realized he’d never looked twice at this particular species. He never really cared for them, if he was completely honest. The reason was simple: they’d never needed his input and he’d never felt the need to barge in.

 

Sighing, the Doctor pulled his hands completely free from the telepathic circuits and shut off the monitor. He turned towards the doors and swung them open with one sharp pull. He took the remaining steps outward, feeling the Tardis doors shutting right on after him.

 

The Doctor found himself standing in an overly large room with impossibly high ceilings. The structure was something otherworldly, the walls glistening with patterns and shades of all colors. Royalty, he reminded himself with a grimace.

 

“Grandfather!” came a sudden outcry from a voice he recognized instantly as Susan’s.

 

The young girl threw herself into his arms unexpectedly and the Doctor just barely managed to reach out for her in time. He found his body quickly enveloped by strong, though stick-like, arms. She hugged him fiercely, this granddaughter of his, giving him no chance at escape whatsoever. His eyes bulged, wider and wider, the longer it went on. The Doctor took note of the room, every inch, out of habit while also patting awkwardly at the young girl’s back.

 

“Now, now,” came a familiar voice from behind them both, highly amused at the situation. “You know this Gramps of yours and how he hates hugs.” Blu came into his view momentarily. “Let go, Susan.” Said the girl’s father.

 

Susan did as her father said, not one bit sorry over the assault either. The Doctor’s body twitched unpleasantly from aftermath of such an embrace, a frown on his lips as he brushed off his coat with twitching hands. As if Susan had left something foul imprinted on him. The young girl didn’t seem to mind his discomforts, simply smiled up at him as if she’d done something worth smiling over. Blu had the same expression on his own face.

 

“You have class, do you not?” Blu questioned of Susan.

 

“Class you stole me away from,” replied Susan, rather confidently.

 

“So, I did.” Admitted Blu, eying his father with a mischievous grin. The Doctor, however, did not return Blu’s smile. Instead, he glowered at his son, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Gramps is giving you the evil eyebrow, daddy.” Said Susan. “Are you in trouble?”

 

Blu sighed at his daughter, not once taking his eyes away from the Doctor’s. “Most definitely,” he answered, going down on bended knee to reach her height. “Go on now, petal.” Blu brushed the bright red curls from her round face, promising, “I’ll find you after.”

 

Susan kissed his cheek before doing as she was told, waving her goodbye to the Doctor as she did so.

 

The Doctor and Blu were left alone. Blu scowled when his father did not relent the intensity of his glare.

 

“Oh, come now. Out with it!” Blu prompted him with a wave of his hand, preparing for whatever it was the Doctor was holding in for Susan’s sake.

 

“The Reigns of Sliva Hapra do not marry out of their own species, Blu.” The Doctor stated simply.

 

“Ah!” Blu grinned fully. “So, you’ve met Harry. Well, _I_ call her Harry. She quite likes it.”

 

“Is that her name?” the Doctor questioned, scoffing. “The, what? Princess, is she? Or did you seduce a Queen straight from her marital bed?”

 

“It wasn’t like that.” Blu frowned, shaking his head. “And that’s not fair.”

 

“Of course it’s like that!” the Doctor scowled. “I had a snog with Madame De Pompadour myself, once a lifetime ago. You don’t see me marrying her for it!”

 

“No,” Blu corrected, “You married a virgin queen, if accounts are to be trusted.”

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes, “I am not the one in the wrong here! Look at this place! Look at it! And _Susan_!” he neared Blu, voice lower and more insistent. “Do you know how they will refuse her? This species is not without their pride or their customs. Did you really think you could get away with this?” he questioned. “They are the way they are for a reason, Blu, and they do not take to outsiders. They do _not_.”

 

Blu stood taller, any and all humor gone from him at the Doctor’s assuming tone. “This is my family, father. You speak of things you know nothing about, elsewise you’d not speak like this.” Blu had to take a calming breath before inquiring, “Where are you?”

 

“Oh, don’t start up with that!” the Doctor paced away from his son before turning and pointing a finger in accusation, “You sound just like your mother.”

 

“ _Where_ are you?” Blu asked again, ever persistent – like his mother.

 

“You have some kind of fever.” The Doctor answered offhandedly. “It’s fine. You’re fine. I just… I needed to scold you,” he gestured around the grandiose room, “ _obviously_!”

 

The Doctor scowled at the walls, as if they themselves offended him. He glanced back at Blu and found his son with a look on his face that quite resembled bitterness.

 

“What is it?” the Doctor demanded.

 

Blu shook his head, “You must go back to mother, now. And you don’t come back until it’s over, this happening our timeline. Promise?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Father,” pleaded Blu.

 

“ _Why_ , Blu?”

 

“Just,” his son smiled. A sad, sad thing it was. Blu looked his father in the eye, “Do as you are told. I bet that sounds familiar, hmm?”

 

The phrase caught the Doctor off guard and a chill sprung from beneath his skin, instilling a frightful feeling to uncurl from both his hearts. He did hate when that happened.

 

“Fine.” The Doctor said, finally, after the lump building in his throat allowed him back his voice. “You be here, do you hear me? I don’t want to have to be tracking you down for months on end.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” assured Blu. “I have a family to take care of.”

 

Though reluctant, the Doctor bid his son farewell with a single nod.

 

 

✯  ✯  ✯

 

 

Entering the sickbay, he found River had gotten into the bed with Blu, holding him in her arms. She was crying. Hearts in his throat, The Doctor hurried over to her.

 

“What’s happened?” his voice had gone authoritative enough to make his wife flinch and hide her face away from him. “ _River_ ,” the Doctor tried for kinder, not knowing if he could pull it off. Not with the sight of her holding their child like a rag doll, so tiny and small and _breakable_ , in her arms. _Their_ little boy, finally looking it. It’s an adjustment to everything the Doctor has come to know of their Blu. He was not ready for it. “What’s gone wrong? Please tell me!”

 

“Nothing,” River answered, quietly, clutching their son closer to her chest. She’s acting very protective, but from who exactly? After a beat, she says, “Everything.” And her teary eyes met his, reluctant to do so. “I’m so sorry, my love.” She says, her bottom lip trembling.

 

The Doctor reaches a finger up to stop her lip from doing that. It’s not helping. “I don’t understand.” He admits, afraid to glance back at the young Blu. He settled for River’s eyes instead.

 

River’s beautiful green eyes, all red and swollen from her bout of tears. Tears she’s been crying for how long? Had she even fallen asleep or did she know he’d needed her to pretend in order for him to sneak off?

 

“He’s not,” her breath catches and a new set of tears trail down her cheeks, “It’s my fault.”

 

He though he’d seen River look guilty before, but it’s nothing compared to the look she’s giving him now. “What is?”

 

River steadies herself, swallowing. She shuts her eyes tightly and pulls herself together, when she meets his stare again she is unflinching. The Doctor’s gut tightens in anticipation.

 

“Blu is human-plus.”

 

The Doctor sucks in air, blinking and processing. “But he… but two hearts, you said he had two.”

 

River nods. “And he does. He’s just not….”

 

The Doctor watches as his wife’s arms tremble around Blu, he can almost hear the damnable chant going on her own head. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._ The idea that she has anything to be sorry for makes his insides churn.

 

“It is not your fault.” he tells her, softly, reaching a hand to grip at her upper arm. “River, there is nothing wrong with being human-plus. For instance, look at you.”

 

“Yes. A murderer and a thief.” She recites humorously. “How remarkable, indeed.”

 

The Doctor raises a disapproving brow. She shouldn’t talk like that in front of Blu, even if the boy is unconscious. 

 

“If you are, then I am.”

 

There’s a lovely fury behind her eyes when they set their attention on him. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to me.”

 

“You’re right, of course.” He nods, determined to prove a point. “You saved people. Me? Not so much.”

 

“You saved plenty!” She insists.

 

“And so have you.” He counters. “But if you’re just going to overlook that, then I’ll just have to do the same. Fair is fair, after all.”

 

River can’t argue against that logic. Instead she presses her lips to Blu’s head, hiding away from the Doctor’s judgment. As if he’d judge her for something else she couldn’t help.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” the Doctor maintains, “or you.”

 

River is visibly shaking. “Please don’t give me the benefit of the doubt, Doctor.” She begs, “I don’t deserve it. Not this time.”

 

The Doctor watches his wife, uncertain as to why she feels as if this is something she needs to be blamed for. She’s given him children. Regardless of genetic factors, she’s done more for him than he deserves. But perhaps there’s something else. Something worse to this that she’s still not letting him know. The Doctor thinks of their son and how Blu is always the same. He wonders….

 

“Can he regenerate?”

 

River shrugs, “I don’t know. He’s just barely turned five years old and I’m not overly anxious to find out.”

 

The Doctor mulls over her statement quietly and considers her. “How long has it been for you, River? Since you left the Library?”

 

His wife sneaks a glance at him, “I had thought you were older. But you’re always so… this face, it’s harder to read. I wasn’t sure.” An exhale, “It’s been six years for me, Doctor. But we haven’t seen you since his birthday,” she reveals to him, “and that was four months ago.”

 

He doesn’t know what to say at that.

 

“It was odd.” Her brow wrinkles. “You’re always there, always. You hadn’t left my side since that day, when you got me out.” River laughs and he gets the impression that she’s remembering something far from here, from this. “We usually can’t get rid of you unless we shove you out the door ourselves, and then suddenly you weren’t there. I suppose it all worked out how it was meant to but I was unprepared this time, all on my own. That’s never happened before. Well, _before_.”

 

She’s uncomfortable admitting to that, he can tell by the way she won’t look at him while she’s talking.

 

“Truth is,” she pauses all of a sudden, unsure if exposing more of how she’s felt to him is wise.

 

“Yes?” he prompts, hoping she won’t choose to stop opening up to him now. He nods his encouragement when she glances at him.

 

He wants to hear this, she needs to know that.

 

River smiles, this one is honest and actually convincing. “You’ve never been more of my husband, or I more of your wife, than in these past six years. Then Blu came along,” she gestures to their son, safely and loved in her arms. “You stayed, I stayed. Who would have thought it possible?”

 

The tip of his lip curls upward, “Almost impossible, Professor. As is everything we tend to get tangled up in.”

 

“You’re really not upset?” She was holding her breath, waiting for condemnation. Little did his wife know that it would never come from the likes of him.

 

“Not in the slightest.” He assured, dismissing the notion without one bit of afterthought. “Now, how about you let the boy be and we go find our old room?”

 

River stilled, skeptical of leaving Blu all on his lonesome. But the boy wouldn’t be, not really.

 

“The Tardis will look after him, dear.” The Doctor reminded. “Besides,” he shrugged, rising to stand over them both, “maybe there’s a bowtie lying around here somewhere.” The Doctor reached his hand out and tapped the tip of her nose gently, as he used to, a usually unseen smile spread on his face, “just for you.”

 

 

✯  ✯  ✯

 

 

“Daddy,” Susan queries her father, as they pack their things from the royal quarters, “where are we going? I thought we were waiting grandfather to come back.”

 

Blu smiles, patting her head of red curls and catching his wife’s eye. Queen Harra M’Daxq stands across the room, looking positively heartbroken.

 

“Rule one, dearest.” He says to their daughter, regretfully. “Rule one.”


End file.
